


Is It Better To Know?

by NotTodayOrTomorrow (TWolves51)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Possible spoilers for books and theories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:50:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWolves51/pseuds/NotTodayOrTomorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon is dead. Robb is dead. Who is Jon?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is It Better To Know?

Jon stared at Olly, the betrayal he felt quickly replaced with acceptance as the boy lunged forward, “For the Watch” spilling from his lips. Jon fell to his back staring up at the blue-black sky above, his body felt numb his limbs no longer listening to his brain. The cold breathed across his face stealing his last breath as the sky descended and blocked out the light. 

~

He felt hot and cold all over, his body trapped under too many layers of snow but surrounded by furs, simultaneously. He saw nothing, all was black. A voice called his name in the dark.

“Jon.” It said, and he trembled because it sounded so familiar.

“Jon.” The voice said again and he remembered. It was his name. It was who he was. The voice.. It too was familiar, but…

“Jon.” And Jon remembered, his eyes shot open and he tried to sit up through the layers of whatever was holding him down. 

“Robb!” He tried to yell but his voice would come and his eyes saw nothing. He hung as though suspended in indescribable emptiness. He tried to yell, to scream, to howl as though ghost had possessed him, but no words no sound emanated from his throat.

Jon squeezed his eyes shut and saw Olly with the dagger. Heard voices, indistinct and desperate shouting about surrender. Was this death? Was he in the afterlife? His eyes opened again, and widened in astonishment. He was in the Godswood.

The tree’s bone white trunk gleamed as he remembered, for this was the Godswood at Winterfell and he was dressed in a white tunic and black breeches. Jon turned his head taking in the moss, the smell of fresh green and water, the scarlet leaves that blushed with purple. His head sunk to his chest as he was assaulted by memories.

“Jon.” The voice was soft and familiar, Jon’s head whipped around and there in all of his fiery glory stood Robb. Jon lept to his feet, the delight of seeing his brother again pushing away any thought of death or life. He grabbed Robb and hugged him as tightly as he could, Robb smiled against his cheek and fell back a step to look him over. 

“You’ve grown.” Was all he said, his grin wide and as untamed as his hair. Jon laughed, as though he had no care in the world.

“You haven’t seen me in the Gods’ know how long and all you can say is ‘You’ve grown’?” Jon asked exasperated and amused and happy all in one, because this was his brother. His dead brother. Jon stopped grinning. “Is this heaven? Where are we?”

Robb said nothing just looked at Jon for a moment and took his hand, gently he led Jon to the edge of the pool and sat down. “There are many things to be said and not nearly enough time to say them. Sit.”

Jon sat, staring at Robb all the while as if afraid that if his eyes left the other man for a second he would disappear and Jon would be lost down some dark void.

“You must know you are dead.” Robb said, blue eyes watching Jon’s face. Jon nodded. “Then you must know what is happening elsewhere. Castle Black is in danger.” Jon nodded again. “You are not my brother.”

Jon recoiled instantly from Robb in shock and hurt. 

“You are my cousin. You are Lyanna Stark’s son from Rhaegar Targaryen, you are not a bastard. You had to be hidden, Robert Baratheon wanted to kill all the Targaryens and he would especially despise the child of the man who stole Lyanna.”

Jon’s mind was reeling trying to digest all that Robb was saying but failing to comprehend at the same time. “I’m whose child? Lord Stark is not my father?” 

Robb smiled gently. “No, you are not Lord Eddard Stark’s son.” 

Jon’s mouth snapped shut and looked away from Robb tears pricking his eyes. All the years of shame, the disgust he had felt of himself, the hate on Caitlyn’s face, the whispers, the sleepless nights thinking about who his mother was. “Why did no one tell me? Did you know?”

“You could not be told. I did not know until….” He trailed off with a shrug. 

“You were killed.” Jon finished with a twist of spite in his voice that surprised him. Robb nodded, eyes flashing slightly at Jon’s tone.

“What else have you to tell?” Jon said, voice softer.

Robb looked up and the indistinct voice from before began pushing into the quiet of the Godswood. Jon looked around, hearing Ser Davos’ voice but not seeing him or hearing the words. “We have no time.” Robb’s voice was rough. “Jon look at me. Do not die again and search for the woman with the white hair, she will help you.”

Jon searched Robb’s face, for what, he did not know. He remembered cold evenings tucked into Robb’s side and moments hidden from prying eyes in secret places only they knew. Cold lips and hands fumbling at clothes and that excuse; ‘the Targaryens had done it.’ Their last embrace at Winterfell before Jon rode off, Robb’s lips pressed to his neck in a promise only he understood. The heart being pulled from his chest at finding out about his death. Jon searched Robb’s face and remembered. Robb’s hands came to Jon’s neck, warm and calloused.

“You cannot stay here Jon.” There were tears in his eyes, marring the blue. Jon reached up and traced a finger under Robb’s eyes. 

“Why? I’m dead.” His voice cracked and he let his forehead drop to Robb’s.

“Because you are needed.” Robb’s grip tightened for a second and his face twisted in the pain he could not say.

“And you are not?” Jon questioned fiercely.

“No.” Robb whispered and kissed him. Jon gasped because he was cold again and his chest hurt and Robb’s mouth was everything he remembered. His taste the same, his hair the same, but he was fading and Jon was fading and everything was fading. He tried to call out but again his voice did not come. The indistinct voices grew louder and sharper. He felt as though a giant was sitting on his chest. In the chaos of his mind, in the waking of his body once again, Jon felt the whisper of lips on his cheek and a faint. “Jon..” Before he shot awake in a dark stone room in Castle Black.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Comments and Kudos are always appreciated.


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